


Welcome Silence

by grim_lupine



Category: Emelan - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Gen, Heartbreak, Introspection, Male-Female Friendship, Post-Will of the Empress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-03-01 03:26:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2757797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grim_lupine/pseuds/grim_lupine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Daja needs to be comforted and cosseted, she goes to Sandry. When Daja needs someone to tell her the hard truths, to deliver the push she knows she needs at times, she goes to Tris.</p>
<p>When Daja needs nothing more than silence and space, the time to lick her wounds and examine her own feelings without the uncomfortable self-consciousness that comes sometimes with being fussed over, she goes to Briar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome Silence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thisisthemorning](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisthemorning/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide! There isn't enough fic about Daja, so I was so glad to see your prompt. I hope this is what you were looking for! :)

When Daja needs to be comforted and cosseted, she goes to Sandry, who will pull her into an embrace and tell her how wonderful she is, the kindness in Sandry’s colossal heart seeping into her voice, a balm to Daja’s wounds. 

When Daja needs someone to tell her the hard truths, to deliver the push she knows she needs at times, she goes to Tris. Tris will tell her the things she needs to hear, as little as she may want to hear them, and the sting of it is near-nonexistent, because it comes from _Tris_ — Tris, who Daja knows loves her fiercely and protectively, who will fight even Daja to give her what is best for her. 

When Daja needs nothing more than silence and space, the time to lick her wounds and examine her own feelings without the uncomfortable self-consciousness that comes sometimes with being fussed over, she goes to Briar. 

Being at home again after that whole mess with Berenene is...strange. The house doesn’t have the strained, wary feeling that had weighed down the air before they had left; they have learned to skirt around the bruises they all have, learned how to be adults with each other instead of holding onto the images of the kids they’d been when they parted. It still isn’t perfect, but anything worth having is worth working for, Daja has always believed. 

Sandry is back in Duke’s Citadel with her uncle, taking her stubborn chin and bone-deep determination with her to work for the place she truly calls home. Her sole allusion to signing over her Lanndreg lands was a rueful “They say those who try to sit on two chairs only end up falling in between, I suppose,” before she had left, and she hasn’t touched the topic since. Daja misses her when she’s gone, though she visits often; Sandry is a breath of cheer and fresh air when she’s around. Daja’s never met anyone as _alive_ as her in her life, and it makes her feel more present in the world, as well. 

Tris is busily working on her plan to attend Lightsbridge under an assumed name, and Briar has been amusing himself pestering her with more and more ridiculous ideas for her new identity, poking at her until Tris loses her temper and dumps him on his rear with a sharp gust of wind at least once a day. 

Daja doesn’t know what comes next. She sculpts with her living metal, keeps herself somewhat occupied with that and helping Frostpine when he needs her, but she has no plan for what to do or where to go next, and the uncertainty of it is uncomfortable, not the least because it leaves her time to brood. 

As for what she’s brooding over — 

Daja goes outside, hungry for the fresh air to clear the bitter taste in her mouth. There’s a warm, gusty wind rustling the leaves, and her ears pick up the low, tuneless sound of Briar humming to himself before she catches sight of him. 

He’s repotting some plants a little ways away, hands digging deep into soil, and he looks peaceful and still, in his element. Daja knows peace doesn’t come easily to him these days; she wants, suddenly, to go sit by him for a while in the hopes that his calm will help her too, will sink into her bones. 

Briar would never turn her away.

Daja heads back inside briefly to get her tools and the bracelet she’s been mending. It’s complicated, fiddly work that will keep her hands busy, if not her mind. She goes outside again and walks over to the tree next to where Briar’s working, and he lifts his head when she draws near, a welcoming smile tugging at his lips and crinkling the corners of his eyes. 

Briar doesn’t say anything aloud, and neither does Daja, like they both feel instinctively that speaking would break the mellow ease of the atmosphere. She sits cross-legged underneath the shade of the tree, spreading her cloth out in front of her, and Briar fills his cup with whatever’s in the pitcher at his side and hands it over. Daja takes a sip, and the clean, bright taste of lemon water trickles down her throat, clears the dust from her mouth and settles her stomach. 

Briar returns to his plants, head bowed under the sun, and Daja bends her head to her own work, lets her mind drift. 

Rizu’s face is still a bright spot in her mind, sharply sweet and painful all at once. Daja doesn’t say her name aloud for fear of what would color her voice if she did. She’s had the coddling from Sandry, who let her cry on her shoulder when the pain felt too fresh; she’s had Tris’s firm words getting her back on her feet and out of her room when she wanted to stay there all day, make a nest of her blankets and pretend the outside world didn’t exist.

Now, Daja just wants to sort through the dull ache in her chest on her own. She doesn’t want anyone else’s opinion on it, neither giving nor taking away its legitimacy. She doesn’t want to be told that she’s young, that she’ll love again, that there are better things waiting for her ahead. 

Maybe it wasn’t true love, and maybe it was. It doesn’t matter. It was _real_ , the realest thing Daja has ever felt, and Rizu was a gift Daja will always be grateful for. 

Daja had spent years convinced of her own coldness, that her unshakable practicality and inability to lose herself in her emotions meant something was missing within her. Rizu had shown her that she could keep her head and still be in love, still go boneless and warm under someone’s touch like melting gold. That there was never anything wrong with her at all. 

Rizu was beautiful and kind and touched Daja like she was precious; sometimes Daja takes out the little portrait she keeps in her room and feels like she left half her heart behind in Namorn, and sometimes the ache is distant and she breathes easier, knows this pain is something she’s getting past day by day. Rizu opened the doors to a whole new world for Daja, and she’s wavering at the entrance of it, unsure if she wants to step through or not. Daja didn’t know that she’d been looking in the wrong places for love all this time, and though she may know _now_ , she still can’t move past the woman who first made her feel beautiful. 

Daja twitches, startled out of her thoughts, as something tickles the arch of her bare foot. She looks down and sees the grass beneath her swaying _against_ the breeze, dancing impossibly to run feather-light against her skin. The line of Briar’s shoulders is determinedly innocent, and all too easy to read.

“That ten-year-old’s still there inside of you, isn’t he, Briar Moss,” Daja says exasperatedly, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips before she swallows it down. 

Briar shrugs, turns his head enough that she gets a glimpse of his grin. “They’re inside all of us, aren’t they?” he says philosophically, and dusts his hands on his thighs before he turns around to sit facing Daja, knees drawn up and forearms braced upon them. Briar studies her for a moment, brow furrowed, his gray-green eyes sharp and intent. 

“This isn’t a fight I can really have your back in, is it?” Briar says at last, ruefully, sympathy curling in his voice alongside a frustration Daja knows all too well — the frustration of watching the people she loves in pain and being unable to do anything about it. 

Daja shrugs, looks down at her hands. “I wouldn’t say no to a cup of tea,” she says, and hides a smile when Briar laughs and jumps to his feet, ruffling a hand through his hair and leaving faint smudges of dirt on his forehead. 

“That I can do,” he says, nodding at her decisively. Briar half-turns to go, and then hesitates, visibly wavering on the edge of saying something aloud. It’s as if he’s determining the wisdom of voicing it, and Daja can practically see his inner mischief win out when he says, “That pretty Earth Temple novice we ran into yesterday — you want me to see if I can wrangle an introduction?”

“Busybody doesn’t look good on you,” Daja informs him tartly, and shoos him off before covering her mouth to rub away any traces of a threatening smile. 

_Everything looks good on me_ , Briar says, and then his presence in her mind retreats, though not before Daja can feel his satisfaction at getting the last word in. 

Daja shakes her head, and says aloud to the bracelet in her lap, “Now what do I do with him, hmm?” 

“If you figure it out, let me know.” Tris’s voice comes floating down from the half-open window of her room, carried right to Daja’s ears by a helpful puff of wind. “I’ve been asking myself that for years.”

Daja gives in and laughs, and feels a curious sense of release as she does so, as if someone’s dug their hands into her shoulders and worked out an actual, physical strain she’s been carrying around. 

Whatever comes next in Daja’s path through life, she knows she won’t be walking alone, at least. For now, that is enough.


End file.
